The Pure Spoil of War
by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns
Summary: Barty was coming home to rid himself of the regret and shame, but the real reason and solution came in the form of something pure. Ancient Greece!AU and written for Sophie (Screaming Faeries)! Note: Of course given the pairing and AU the ages were made similar despite being unmentioned :P


Note: Written for Sophie (Screaming Faeries)! With the prompt: BartyLuna - Ancient Greece!AU

* * *

Barty was sitting along the edge of the sand, watching as the blue waves crashed against the shore and rocks. Fighting the Romans once was tiresome but fighting alongside the aggressive men proved to be traumatic even beyond their own standards.

All the blood that was spilled, the bodies that were ripped apart for no reason. Barty was not sure how he would come from that unscathed. He was grateful that he wasn't on the receiving end of their blades any longer.

The images burned in his memory, and he thought that coming home would change that, but nothing was the same now. Everywhere he turned, the color turned red and the appearance was ashen. He was supposed to be a man of war; a warrior who cherished the defeat of his enemies.

Barty wasn't like that. He couldn't _be_ like that.

Not even the soft hand that touched his bicep deterred him from the screaming of the victims blaring in his mind.

"Bartemius," came a light voice.

That brought him away from his thoughts if only a little. He turned, and his eyes met with a silvery-eyed woman. He had to look away from them because a second longer and she'd read his very thoughts with her soulful glance. He let his eyes drift to her hair that was decorated with an assortment of shells.

"It is a delight to see you, Luna," he replied. "I see that you've found another theme for your hair."

Luna's smile was soft before fingering her hair. "Flowers were last season. I had to find something that would please the gods and offer you safe passage home."

Barty snorted harsher than intended. "Right. Safe. While there's slaughtered families that had reason to live." He looked at the untamed sea. "We took their freedom from them."

"Bartemius, you did what you were supposed to do. The Romans have always been unpredictable, yes?" Luna replied. "You did not do as they did, right?"

He met her eyes again, and her eyes were staring straight into his soul, exactly what he was trying to avoid. His throat was dry, and he swallowed hard in effort to speak. It didn't work, unfortunately. He reached for her; his worn, dirty fingers touched her unblemished, pale cheek, trailing down to her chin.

Barty hadn't done as his Roman allies. He tried saving anyone and everyone that he could, but it was hard to feel responsible when he could have prevented it somehow.

"There was nothing that you could have done," Luna told him.

Damn the gods for her intuitive nature. He couldn't hide anything from Luna, not even the demons he wished would stay away.

Luna must have noticed that he couldn't reply, so she grabbed the bucket on her side that were filled with shells. She took a handful in her lap, weaving them in his hair.

His voice was finally found in the amusement of the situation. "Where did the bucket come from?"

"The bucket has always been here, Bartemius, you're only now seeing it because you let yourself see it."

Her fingers worked fast and efficient with the decorations, and Barty knew he looked like something ungodly. A man, a formidable soldier was allowing a woman to weave things in his hair. To the public eye, it would be disrespectful and unheard of.

But Barty was used to Luna. He was used to her unique ways and stature. She was confident in herself, strong with her opinions, and maintained the grace of a nymph. It was one of the many reasons he fell for her.

It was the only real reason he returned home.

Blinding himself with guilt and thinking that the return home would help his coming nightmares was false. Luna Lovegood was the only reason he would believe that the entire world wouldn't end in destruction.

Why? Because she was a creation from the gods that couldn't be touched by the damnation his soul could bring.

"Stop pondering on the world, Bartemius," she said. "Focus on the now, while you have the fortune to do so."

She was everything he wasn't, and that's something Barty would praise the gods for every time he had the opportunity.

* * *

 **Word Count** : 702


End file.
